


Glory, Or Not

by callmechristinae



Series: Livejournal Migration [31]
Category: Rent - Larson
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-02-05
Updated: 2007-02-05
Packaged: 2017-12-26 21:59:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/970737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmechristinae/pseuds/callmechristinae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roger works through some issues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glory, Or Not

Dear Mark,  
  
I seriously doubt that you’ll ever read this, but if I don’t write this to someone I feel like a teenage girl writing in her diary. Wouldn’t that do wonders for my image? The only reason I’m even doing this is because it’s raining/snowing. You know, when they say it’s snowing but it isn’t cold enough to stick so everything just ends up a slushy mess.  
  
Okay, back to the point. I heard somewhere that it’s healthy for you to write down your thoughts and work through them rather than just shoving them to the back of your mind. Like how you need to write down a song before you’ve got too many floating around up there that you can’t distinguish them anymore. So, I’m doing that. Because I’m fucking bored and don’t feel like going out in the cold with you to film a bunch of idiots in the park.  
  
I don’t have an excessive number of issues I haven’t worked through yet. I mean, I’ve worked through the being poor a living without heat for my art issue, I’ve worked through the my girlfriend slit her wrists issues, I’ve worked through the getting AIDS issue, and I worked through my other girlfriend dying from the disease that’s killing me issue. What the hell do I have to complain about besides those? I’m living the good life. I’m still relatively healthy and all my friends, with the exception of the previously mentioned girlfriends and Angel, are still around. Benny’s still being a stuck-up ass, but I don’t mind him not being around.  
  
So what do I have to complain about, you ask? Well, I found my song a few years ago. The one filled with love and truth and all that good stuff. It was beautiful and it comforted the woman I loved. But I haven’t found my glory.  
  
Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. "Of all the shit that’s gone wrong in your life you’re complaining about that? That you aren’t a famous rock star?"  
  
I don’t care what all you guys say. That the point isn’t to become famous for your work but the work itself. Well, when I got my first guitar I thought I was going to be the next Jimi Hendrix or Bob Dylan. I’m probably going to die in a few years and all that’ll be left is a bunch of scribbles in a notebook and a few decent songs.  
  
My dad used to joke that "the art of losing isn’t hard to master." Of course, it was always in reference to my mother’s beautiful paintings, his inability to draw stick figures, and my mother’s knack for beating him in every game we ever played. I always won of course, but that was because I was little and they let me. They let me be the race car, unlike some people. But, I mean, maybe there’s some truth to that. If I had set out with just wanting to write music, not caring what people thought, then I might be more satisfied with what I’ve done with my life, and my art. I wouldn’t mind that radio stations have turned down my songs, or that the only time I’ve ever heard my song on the radio was that time we paid off the night dj in college.  
  
What am I trying to say here? I wish I could be more like you. I don’t wish I could be you, just more like you. I wish I could be satisfied with the journey, no matter what the destination is. I wish I could enjoy my work for the sake of the work itself, even if it ends up sucking. You don’t care that you got more attention for raw film of a riot than the film about love and family you spent a whole year on.  
  
Now I know you’ll never read this. Letting you know that I admire you and wish I could be more like you? Never gonna happen. No chance in hell.  
  
So, that’s the issue I ended up writing about. My unfulfilled glory. Maybe I didn’t have it in me, or maybe I just got sidetracked by all the things I thought would go along with it. Like how you can’t build up good karma if you’re trying to build it up. I think I read that in one of those books Collins is always leaving around.  
  
The rain/snow is stopping now, so I think I’ll go hunt you down. Who knows, maybe you’ll stumble across your glory when you’re not looking.  
  
Sincerely,  
Roger


End file.
